


Why I Love You

by h_itoshi



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP, Sexy Zone
Genre: Angst, Cheating Fic, Don't ask how it got so long, I did not choose to write this I was prompted to, M/M, Rough Sex, lots of confused and messy feelings, with some scratches and hickeys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 08:11:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14015994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_itoshi/pseuds/h_itoshi
Summary: The first couple times, he felt so many things. Liberated, daring, free, excited, guilty, terrified, all in a turmoil of emotions. Now, there's only underlying guilt and self-loathing covered by a thick layer of indifference.





	Why I Love You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tamamushigami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamamushigami/gifts).



> I. Don't even know tbh. I don't like angst, don't read angst, but sometimes I write it. I'm not even sure if this IS that angsty or if it's just. Messy?  
> Idek, hope some of you bitches that are into pain likes this.

“I'm going out for a bit.” Fuma says lightly as he heads for the hall, bag in hand, trying to sound casual.

“Oh.” Kento looks up from his script and Fuma decidedly doesn't look at his expression. “Are you... Will you be away long?”

The disappointment is obvious in his voice even if he tries to cover it up.

“Probably.” Fuma says apologetically, well trained in looking at Kento's face without meeting his eyes and then looking away as quickly as is acceptable. “I'm going out with the guys, we'll probably have a few beers. Don't wait up for me.”

“Okay.” Kento says, voice small and Fuma takes a deep breath, trying to breathe out the pain before it reaches his heart. “I thought maybe we could eat together tonight. But that could wait until tomorrow, too.”

“Tomorrow sounds good.” Fuma smiles, but the guilt is already gnawing at his internal organs, somehow feeling like it spreads into his blood and it makes him feel nauseous.

“Tomorrow it is then.” Kento smiles back softly, but there's no happiness in it and Fuma knows it all too well. “Fuma?”

“Mm?” Fuma pauses, already on his way to his coat.

“I love you.” Kento says, sincerely, like he can stop Fuma from going, and Fuma almost bursts into tears. “More than anything.”

“I love you too.” Fuma gets out, managing a small smile before hurrying to get his outerwear on, and he doesn't even tie his shoes before he goes out the door because he feels like he's choking inside.

He draws a deep breath once the front door is closed behind him, leans against it and closes his eyes for a moment. Thinks about what a horrible person he is. How he deserves to choke breathing the same air as Kento.

But the worst part is over now. Leaving is the worst part.

He leans down to tie his shoes, tying away his guilt and Kento's disappointed tone somewhere deep inside as well. He'll buy him flowers tomorrow. Show some appreciation.

As he straightens up and starts walking, he decidedly tries to think about what flowers to get.

The train ride somehow gets worse every time. There's nothing wrong with the train line, but Fuma somehow feels like he loses more and more emotions everytime he rides it. Staring at the commercials for beverages or lotions or insurance companies lined up above the racks by the ceiling, feeling less and less every time he sees them. Trying not to think about what he's doing and how he can't stand himself. How he's everything he hates embodied.

The first couple times, he felt so many things. Liberated, daring, free, excited, guilty, terrified, all in a turmoil of emotions. Now, there's only underlying guilt and self-loathing covered by a thick layer of indifference.

The familiar door is opened for him, a lopsided smile that doesn't reach dark eyes meeting him.

“Hey.” Chinen says, leaning against the doorpost in his oversized T-shirt and freshly washed hair for a second, looking Fuma over before letting him in. “You look tired.”

“Lots of work today.” Fuma says, the lie obvious in the air but Chinen doesn't call him on it, only shrugs.

“It happens.” He says, then turns and heads back into the apartment. “I got sushi, hope you're hungry because I probably ordered too much.”

“I am.” Fuma says, even though he never feels like eating when he's here.

He shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it up, next to a fancy beige trenchcoat that smells like Yamada's expensive cologne, but Fuma tries to ignore it as he always does.

“Good.” Chinen calls from inside, and Fuma dumps his bag and follows him inside to the kitchen that is in perfect order besides a coffee cup and take-away bags on the counter. “Wanna watch something, chat, music...?”

It's a casual question, but Fuma still wets his lips as he watches Chinen's face.

He looks tired too, dark circles under his eyes and a tired posture, and Fuma wonders if it's work or something else.

He wants to ask, but he also knows that he can't.

“A movie.” He settles with, and Chinen gives another meaningless smile as he starts picking up food and beer and moving them to the couch.

There's a disc in the DVD player already, looking like it belongs in the Gossip Girl box on the floor but Chinen just carelessly sets it aside and pops in some action movie instead that Fuma's never heard of but doesn't intend to watch either.

He sits down on the couch, grabbing a sushi container and takes a deep breath.

Today is a bad day, he's felt it since he woke up this morning. A sensitive day, where everything feels uncomfortable and he doesn't know how to handle it. When everything in this apartment acutely reminds him that there's more than one person living here. When the smell and the cleaning and the magazines and the couch cushions reminds him of Yamada, of laughing and talking about senpai over drinks and Yamada saying he liked hanging out with Fuma. Of how stiff his own smile had gotten as he tried not to throw up from the guilt accumulating in his stomach.

“Where's Yamada?” He asks, hearing the forbidden words leave his mouth before he processed saying them, and he feels more than sees Chinen stiffen next to him, muscles tensing where they brush against his shoulder.

“Filming.” Chinen says, tone short, making very clear he doesn't want to talk about that.

But Fuma's tired and even though he can usually push away his own guilt, forget it in favour of hot skin and flexible limbs and a gorgeous voice, he can't get it out of his head today and it hurts.

“Will he be away long?” He goes on instead, and Chinen clears his throat, tone changing to cold and Fuma knows he's causing Chinen pain right now but it only feels fair.

“Until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Hmm.” Fuma makes a small acknowledging sound as he sets the half empty box of food on the coffee table. He doesn't feel like eating any more. “How's it going? Is it fun or-”

“Would you shut up?!” Chinen snaps, so suddenly that Fuma jumps and he's glad he's not holding anything right now.

“I was just asking a question.” Fuma says calmly, but his heart is beating quickly as he meets Chinen's dark eyes, that tired emotionless look blown away in favour of burning anger. Chinen never gets angry, at least not with him.

“You were not.” Chinen hisses, setting his own food down and properly turns to glare at Fuma. “How's Kento doing? Home alone even though he spent all day talking about how he was going to have dinner with you tonight? And I smiled and said that sounds fun even though I knew you were going to come crawling to me instead?”

“Shut up.” Fuma growls, everything about this too painful to hear, because he knows Kento anticipated being with him, knows that Kento most likely knows where he goes and still has to work with Chinen every day. Acting his romantic rival.

“Yeah, now it's shut up.” Chinen says acidly, and Fuma wants to punch him but he can't. He's too weak for that.

Too weak to stop this whole thing even if he'd want to. But it's an addiction and he can't get out of it.

The first time it happened was completely accidental. They were drunk, at some industry party Fuma can't even remember who hosted. But he had a bad period with Kento back then, arguing constantly and Kento left early that night due to some misunderstanding between them, and Fuma tried to forget it with Jägermeister shots. Chinen flirted with him, smiled and touched his neck and said suggestive things, and something about him riled Fuma up worse than he'd ever felt, upset and turned on in a lethal mix that had him slamming Chinen against a bathroom wall.

Fuma never asked why Chinen did that. He only knew it felt damn good, exciting, sex in a more intense way than he ever had with Kento and he didn't even know why. At first, he tried to apply it into his own relationship, but he only found himself disappointed because it didn't feel the same no matter what he did.

Later, he's come to realize that Chinen has a way of angering him, building up his frustration to the point where he has to physically get rid of it, that coy and careless aura triggering Fuma's adrenaline and heightening his arousal. And so he kept coming back for more.

He never asked what the problem between Chinen and Yamada is. There doesn't seem to be one on the outside, but he knows there's something. Has to be with how Chinen sometimes messages him and asks him to come over, how Yamada's cologne is still in the air and Chinen clings to Fuma like he's the only stability in the world.

“I only asked where your boyfriend is.” Fuma says, the sharpness unintentional but he doesn't regret it.

“And I asked where yours is, big deal!” Chinen goes on, eyes sparking with anger. “Mine isn't here, yours is alone at home crying because you so obviously choose someone else before him!”

Fuma acts before he thinks, grabbing Chinen's wrist and shoving him backwards, Chinen's head hitting the couch armrest with a dull thunk as he's pressed into the cushions by Fuma's weight.

“Don't say things like that.” He growls, voice coming out more threatening than he intended, but he still grabs Chinen's free hand too, pinning them both against the armrest on either side of his head.

Chinen doesn't speak, simply looks up at Fuma for a moment like he's retarded, but then those dark eyes flutter shut and he stretches his neck a little, body arching as his lips part on a sigh and Fuma's already defeated.

His own groan echoes in the air as he feels Chinen's warm body against his own, and Fuma never feels as nasty as he does when he's turned on just looking at Chinen's helpless face. Chinen has this way of just relaxing everything and letting Fuma toy with him as he pleases, push and pull and be as harsh or soft as he wants and it's so empowering it's dangerous.

Usually, Fuma's careful, sticks to the unspoken rules of helping each other keeping the secret by leaving no evidence. But tonight is a bad night.

When his lips meet warm skin his hormones catch fire, and his kisses against Chinen's skin turn messy and heated as Fuma's lips drag from his temple and down his throat.

Chinen's soft little moan breathed into his hair only spurs him on, his grip on Chinen's wrists tightening as he stops caring about his teeth, bites in between heavy breaths leaving pink marks behind.

Fuma's so turned on he's panting already, his body so upset and confused he can only channel it through arousal, and his hips roll down into Chinen's shamelessly, grinding his erection against Chinen's until they're both equally hard.

There are small sounds slipping past Chinen's lips, those tiny, helpless moans that has hormone shots spiralling up Fuma's spine and clouds his judgement, making him even rougher as he wants to break Chinen apart and piece him back together over and over again.

He feels Chinen's wrists in his grip shifting, sees his hands flexing but he doesn't let go, wants those beautiful eyes to open first, to look at him. Fuma's never felt possessive in his life before, but with Chinen, he wants those eyes on him always, wants to make sure Chinen knows who it is making him feel like this.

He nudges Chinen's head backwards with his own, sucking a wet kiss against his Adam's apple, feeling it moving in a swallow under his mouth, and he hears Chinen's choked sound a millisecond after. Chinen's sounds are something out of the ordinary. It's like they're a sex drug on their own, detaching Fuma from reality, his only focus those sounds and doing anything he can to hear more.

His lips drag down taut muscles under smooth skin, and he huffs in irritation as he meets a T-shirt collar that smells suspiciously much like Yamada.

He lets go of Chinen's hands and sits back, unmildly reaching under Chinen's shirt, following the dips of his abs with his fingertips as he drags the shirt up enough for Chinen to lift his head and pull it off entirely.

Fuma's head drops back down, lips attaching to skin because he can't stand the buzz of no friction, placing sloppy kisses against collarbones, nipples, pectorals that has Chinen writhing and his hands clawing in Fuma's own shirt.

A clear moan leaves Chinen's parted lips as Fuma nips at his nipple and grinds down against his thigh at the same time, and Fuma's erection twitches so much he growls.

“Bed.” He orders, reluctantly sitting back, and the power of having Chinen do as he says makes his skin tingle as he's pulled up from the couch and into Chinen's mouth.

He's so short, so much shorter than Kento and it's painful and hot how different it is, leaning down to kiss as he's dragged through the apartment into the cool bedroom, thoroughly distracted by Chinen's tongue sloppily lapping at his lips and the inside of his mouth.

Chinen falls down onto the bed with a sigh, and Fuma shamelessly crawls back on top, nudging at Chinen's thighs to make them spread as he pulls his own shirt over his head and flings it aside. He loves how much Chinen's legs can spread, loves how much every single one of his limbs has a range of movement he's never had in a lover before. How he can be folded in two without being bothered, how he can hold himself up in the most creative positions and how Fuma can pull his legs in any direction he wants. He loves nice legs, and Chinen definitely has them.

“Naked.” Fuma goes on, the order not entirely complete but he's breathless from both kissing and how gorgeous Chinen looks blushing against the sheets, but the point comes across.

Chinen's fingers hook in his own remaining clothing, easily getting his legs out of underwear and sweatpants, shoving them over the edge of the bed and then reaches for the lube.

It's not even hidden, sits right there on the left bedside table, and Fuma knows that at least it diminishes between the times he's here. But somehow he's still not sure if Yamada and Chinen actually have sex. Not with how Chinen craves this.

Fuma accepts the bottle as Chinen spreads his legs wider, and Fuma can't help running his palm against the inside of his thigh just to feel the smooth skin, to marvel at the tan difference between his own ring clad hand and a part of Chinen that rarely sees sunlight.

A small, impatient sound breaks the spell, makes him focus on what's really important, and he pops the cap to pour more than he has to over his fingers. Some of it drips down onto the sheets but he doesn't care and Chinen doesn't notice. Somewhere deep down it feels good marking his territory. Fucking Chinen in Yamada's bed.

He keeps telling himself Yamada doesn't take care of Chinen. Doesn't care enough, doesn't have enough time to give him what he deserves, doesn't fuck him good enough. It makes everything easier, and Chinen only helps the idea with how he gasps as Fuma's finger slips inside him, tight and rejecting initially, as always.

Fuma leans over him, attention back to his throat and neck as he slowly thrusts an increasing amount of fingers in and out of Chinen's greedy body, licking and carefully sucking at his skin as he spreads him open and Chinen just moans helplessly.

Chinen's arms drape over Fuma's shoulders, fingers digging into the muscles of his back as he groans when Fuma's fingers play with him, spreading and twisting and pushing when he least expects it because he knows Chinen can take it. He's starting to suspect that Chinen can take anything.

A shrill cry cuts through the air as Fuma's fingers go particularly deep, and his own erection twitches in his pants despite the sudden, acute pain burning at his shoulders.

“Stop it!” He growls, his voice coming out rough and irritated but Chinen doesn't even seem to hear him, short nails dragging like claws against his bare skin.

“You stop it.” Chinen gasps, and as Fuma pointedly presses up against his prostate again, he earns another sharp scratch over his back.

It hurts and Fuma hisses, because even if Chinen gets off on being manhandled in any kind of way, Fuma does not.

“No!” He groans, sitting back enough to grab Chinen's wrist and shove it down against the sheets, but Chinen's other hand still rests on his shoulder and purposely digs nails into it, so Fuma pulls back entirely.

Chinen's eyes slit open as Fuma's fingers withdraw too quickly, a frown of pain on his face but his eyes are defiant, and Fuma's own eyes narrow as much as his erection twitches in its confines.

“Hands and knees.” He says, determined, and Chinen sighs, but then relocates, shamelessly hanging his head and sticks his ass in the air, showing off his clenching, slick hole to Fuma who can't shove his pants off fast enough.

He fumbles for a condom, feeling like a teenager trying to get the packet open with sticky fingers, and ends up tearing it open with his teeth in his impatience, ignoring the taste of lubed plastic in favour of sheating his erection.

Once upon a time, he'd give a warning before pushing inside, but he knows now that Chinen doesn't need one, doesn't want one, and so he grabs Chinen's hips almost at the same time as he settles his erection against the willing opening and starts pushing.

Chinen's moan is loud and wanton, his hips trying to push back too soon but Fuma holds him still, more to tease than to keep him safe.

His own thighs quiver with the effort of going slow, of the heat molding itself so tight around Fuma's erection, with how much he wants to just slam forward and keep going until he comes. But Chinen's reactions are worth going slow for, how he shifts and whines and his head falls from side to side, hands clawing at the sheets and back muscles rippling as he tries to move.

Fuma wets his lips watching it, the flawless expanse of untainted skin before him, the muscles defined in a way he doesn't think his own can become, and it looks too perfect not to mess up.

When he's finally fully inside, his own thighs touching Chinen's, he breathes a sigh and leans over him, making Chinen gasp with the sudden change of angle, and moves one hand from Chinen's hip to his hair.

His fingers tangle themselves in Chinen's soft brown strands as well as they can, then starts pulling out only to slowly push back inside him just in time for Chinen's complaint at the hair pulling to die on his tongue.

Instead there's a wanton moan, accentedly guttural as Fuma harshly pulls his head back using his hair and attaches his lips to his shoulder, just below where a normal neckline would end.

It takes until Fuma starts sucking more purposefully for Chinen to react, to realize what he's doing, and he tries raising one hand from the sheets but ends up shoving it back as he can't hold himself up without it.

“Stop th- fuck.” He starts, but cuts himself off with a groan as Fuma thrusts into him particularly roughly, and Fuma can't keep from smiling against that abused skin. Revenge is sweet.

He moves around a litte, letting go of Chinen's hair and wraps an arm around his waist instead, feeling the muscles tense underneath smooth skin as Fuma keeps up a deep and slow rhythm fucking him.

His mouth finds a new patch of skin, just below his shoulder blade, and Chinen tries to shrug him off, starting another half protest that Fuma silences with a calculated thrust as he sucks another bruising hickey into that perfect back.

When he pulls away from the hot skin, letting it leave his somewhat numb limbs red and dotted purple, he thinks that somehow Chinen's back looks even better marked up.

He wants to make more, wants to scatter every inch of Chinen's skin in dirty evidence of his presence, but he's too close, his stomach pooling with more heat at every slide, at every twitch of Chinen's erection against his arm and every broken moan that falls from slutty lips.

He straightens back up for more momentum, his own skin slick where it's been pressed against Chinen's, and he shivers as the air immediately cools it down.

Chinen's cries out at the first rougher, harder thrust, and Fuma picks up the pace to keep hearing those sounds, his own low groaning mixing into Chinen's song of pleasure.

Fuma intends to wait him out, let Chinen come first, but his orgasm surprises him, suddenly so close he can't do anything but speed up and ride it out, white hot waves crashing over him as Chinen whines.

Fuma's not very coordinated as he reaches down to wrap fingers around Chinen's erection, and Chinen groans before shifting his weight enough to be able to reach up himself, swatting Fuma's fingers away.

So Fuma just leans forward, brushing lips against Chinen's neck where his hair is a little moist with sweat, strokes a hand down Chinen's arm still holding himself up while helping to support them both with his other one.

Chinen comes with a sharp intake of breath, surprisingly quiet compared to his earlier sex tape moans, head falling forward as he shudders and Fuma presses a lazy kiss to his neck.

Chinen quickly gets uncomfortable, almost shrugging him off and it always hurts a little even though Fuma knows there are no feelings involved. He's just so used to cuddling, to some sort of conclusion to sex that it feels wrong how Chinen so easily frees himself from Fuma, slips off to the bathroom and leaves Fuma with the physical and emotional mess.

Fuma falls down on the clean side of the bed as he's left alone with a gross condom and a sinking heart, staring at the ceiling while all the guilt crashes over him like a tide.

He can't help thinking about Kento alone at home, of how much he doesn't deserve him. Wonders why the hell he chooses to fuck another man that he's not even entirely sure he likes over the person who loves him most in the entire world. That he loves back.

“It's your turn.” Chinen says, breaking him out of his head and Fuma looks up to see him in the doorway lazily draped in a bathrobe. “You can sleep here if you want.”

“I...” Fuma starts, his voice a little rough so he swallows. “Think I'm going home.”

Chinen shrugs, then slowly walks over to the bed and starts pulling at the messy sheets. “Suit yourself.”

And so Fuma showers, the scratches on his back stinging like a bitch and it makes him realize too late that he's using the soap in the shower that smells a lot like Chinen, and the worries start gnawing at him again. What time is it. Will Kento be asleep when he comes home. Please be asleep.

He leaves Chinen's place with a brief goodbye, the end of the movie playing on the television as he passes the living room, and he tries not to worry about bringing up Yamada today. Hopes that at least this won't be affected.

In the end, he goes to a pub instead of going home, trying to mask the floral scent with cigarette smoke and fried food, and drown his guilt in alcohol.

It's past midnight when he finally gets back home, and he's kind of drunk, enough that he almost starts crying when he steps inside and smells Kento's cologne instead of those strong flashy ones. Thankfully the lights are out and it's quiet.

He manages a round in the bathroom, then strips off most of his clothes and falls into bed on his side, back against Kento as he tries not to actually cry.

But as his own breathing evens out and his body slowly relaxes, he hears a soft moving of sheets, a sniff in the air.

And then soft fingertips against his shoulder, trailing over the welts on his bare skin, and Fuma bites his lip and tries to stay still, tries to pretend to sleep, cursing himself to hell and back for not keeping the shirt on.

But when he hears Kento's soft sob, he can't keep the tears from welling up in his own eyes either.

 

~*~

 


End file.
